#Even my mum liked it and she’s not always like!

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

--------------------------------------------

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

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[the-kr8tor]

REQUEST FOR THE TWINS!

● the twins saying their first words

Like, imagine they're playing with toys or something, and R and Hobie are like lowkey flirting whilst keeping an eye on them, and then all of a sudden you both just hear a tiny voice yelling "Mony!" And you snap your head around and bam, Billie is giggling and yelling her sisters name 🥹

Yay! Billie and Ramona!! Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, mom! Reader, dad! Hobie, dad au, twins au, Billie and Ramona au, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You watch your girls play on the puzzle pieces mat that Ned bought for them. Billie smothers her bunny plush in her sticky kisses, while Ramona babbles as she ‘reads’ her soft book about ducks. They look mighty adorable in their matching onesies, Billie in her pastel purple one, and Mona in her baby blue onesie. You have the camera in your hands, always ready if they ever do something adorable, which was every five minutes for you. Whether it's Mona showing you her toy plastic orange, or it's Billie trying to yank her ribbon off her pretty hair, you have a picture of it. You think you're about to run out of film at this point.

You feel a sudden chill on top of your head, and you immediately know it's Hobie with your drink. Condensation falls on your hair, and Hobie smirks at your narrowed eyes.

“You're rude.” Despite your words, your smile says otherwise. “I hope the girls don't get your rudeness.” Taking the drink, you reach for his sweatpants strings to tug and untie it playfully.

Hobie turns his attention to the undone strings and then to your teasing smile. “And ‘m the one who's rude?”

You giggle, hand still holding onto the strings, guiding him down on the sofa so he could sit down next to you. He rolls his eyes but relents and indulges you. Sitting down with a groan, he crosses his leg over the other before his arm instinctively snakes behind your shoulders, palm resting on your bicep. Once he looks over to you, he's met with a grin etched on your lips.

“What?”

“You've only been a dad for a year and you already have the trademark dad groan.”

He scootches closer to you, hip to hip, you place your head on his shoulder. “And you've only been a mum for a year and you're already askin’ for another one.”

You lean away, making a face that makes him guffaw. “I literally just placed my head on you.”

“You sure? Your hand on my back says somethin’ else, love.” He says with a raised brow. True enough, your cold hand is splayed over the small of his back comfortably. Billie gurgles next to his foot, placing her rabbit on top of it like it's about to go on a ride. Hobie smiles and moves down to fix her ponytail.

“I didn't even notice, Hobs. Besides, you're the one walking around with a crop top on.” You take a sip from your drink as you watch him gently tie Billie’s hair.

“It's laundry day.” He says with a chuckle, which Mona copies with her own laughter. It's a chain reaction, you giggle from the cuteness and Billie follows with her own chortle. Hobie pecks Billie's chubby cheek, making the girl shriek from happiness. “Mummy can't deny how dad looks this fit in a crop top.” He whispers to Billie, his daughter tilts her head like she's trying to understand his words. Turning towards Mona, he brings his girl to the conversation as you take a few more pictures of them. “Ain't that right, mon mon?”

“Don't answer that, mony.” You jokingly say, glass now sitting empty on the side table. Hobie flicks your leg in retaliation. Chuckling, eyes staring lovingly at Hobie, you don't notice how Mona is trying to speak. “Don't bring the girls into the argument.”

“So we're arguin’ now, hm?” Hobie sits up, palms finding your hips, holding you in place as he looms over you. He raises a brow, “say, what are we arguin’ ‘bout?”

You clamp down, lovestruck gaze stuck on his face, cheeks suddenly warm, lips trying to reach his own. “I don't know anymore.”

“Really?” He teases with a smirk, knowing full well how you're feeling. Leaning down, he nudges your nose with his own, smile mirroring yours.

“Shut up and kiss me, Hobart.” Laughing victoriously, he abandons your waist to cup your cheek. You're both giggling as he squeezes your cheek.

“Mony!” The sudden voice has you pushing Hobie away to look at your girls. He falls on the couch with an oomph, the look of surprise on his face is almost the same as yours. “Mony!” Billie says again, crawling over to her sister with the stuffed bunny in her tiny fist.

Ramona meets her halfway, giggling in excitement, smiling wildly and clapping her hands. Her cute and rotund cheeks bring out the cuteness aggression out of you, wanting to go squish her in your arms. “Bee!” She answers back, and you swear your heart took a leap. You're not ready when they start taking their first steps.

Hobie holds on to your shoulder, and you hold onto him as you watch with an awestruck face. He shakes you, laughing as the twins continue to call each other's names. They blabber about, Billie gives her toy to her sister, while Mona kisses Billie on her cheek as thanks. It's safe to say that both girls didn't get their parents’ ‘rudeness.’

“Holy shi—!” Your sudden palm on Hobie's mouth stops him from continuing his sentence. His muffled laughter makes the twins turn their heads towards the two of you, looking like you interrupted their conversation.

“Where's my camera?!” You frantically try to find the camera that might've fallen into the cushions while Billie shares her bunny with Mona.

Hobie has now left your side to sit next to them to watch their interaction like he's watching his favourite band play.

[batchilla]

The most married divorced couple - Chapter 4 - Coffee and Custody

Years of well honed instincts through gruelling training had Jason as a perpetually light sleeper. A perpetually light sleeper who knew, even in his sleep, that he was being watched. 

He opens one eye, slowly sitting up as he takes in his surroundings - his wife’s… his ex wife's penthouse apartment. Well, that told him who was watching him at least. Sure enough, peering at him from behind the furthest arm of the couch he’d spent the night on is a tell-tale mess of curls so like his own - and Mary comes scrambling, not around the couch, but up to sit on the arm. “DAD!” 

Every time. Every time, that single word reminds him that there is in fact good in the world, and that his baby girl might just be the epitome of that. She all but tackles him into a cuddle. “You're here!”

He tries not to wince. He doesn’t ever want her to hug him less enthusiastically - but last night hadn’t gone well, and becoming climbing equipment for his daughter did not exactly help his recovery. 

Jason hugs her tight “Hi baby.” he says, his head resting on hers.

“Mm not a baby.” she grumbles “are you stayin’ for breakfast?”

“If mum says yes.” He says, part of him feeling dirty over the manipulative tactic - but the truth of the matter always was that Mary had a higher success rate in campaigning for him to stay then he did. Something about those adorable little eyes, he suspects. Mary hms, tucking her head against her shoulder. 

“M’ glad you came Dad. I don’t want Mr Brett to be my new dad.” Fucking what? Part of him wanted to resort to old methods on this ‘Mr Brett’ with extreme prejudice. For sniffing around his wife and daughter, and for trying to take what should have still been his. 

“What's that now baby?” he says, trying to keep the growing emotions that were making him feel like he was on fire. She didn’t need to know about any of that. 

“Mr Brett, he walks me to school sometimes cus I’m best friends with Jaxon and Riley and Kyle, and sometimes Mum walks me with them. They say its like a ‘carpool’ but cars don’t go to the pool, and the other day he and mummy went for a playdate while I was at grandpa Bruce’s and then Mum was asking how I felt about Mr Brett and I said he was so nice but that I don’t want a new dad and then she turned on baby shark and I got distracted.”  He takes a deep breath. He can’t get mad in front of Mary. Another deep breath. He realistically can’t get mad at all. He knows that. He had been divorced from his wife for four years. She was allowed to seek out … companionship. Had he? No. Did it feel akin to a betrayal? He knew it shouldn’t - but it did. She didn’t need to be lonely - and he didn’t want her to be. But he did hope that he’d somehow end up being the solution, not this fucking ‘Mr Brett’ asshole. Even then - companionship was one thing, but a relationship serious enough she’d mention it to Mary?

“Well, I’m sure he’s… nice, if your Mum likes him.”

“Mhm. Maybe you can say hi when he comes to get me for school.” “Speaking of school!” His wife's voice sounds from her doorway, loud enough to tell him she’d heard enough of that to panic slightly. “Mary, get dressed, you’ll be late.” 

Mary reluctantly separates from the hug, dragging her feet dramatically “Okay mum. Even though Dad’s here and he NEVER is, school happens every day and is super boring.”

“Nice try bubba.” she says, folding her arms and shaking her head. The second their child shuts the door - still loudly complaining about how unfair it all was, which in Jason’s opinion was psychological warfare, which his ex wife seemed somehow immune to, Jason turns to her. “We need to talk.”

She sighs “I guess we do. But not in front of Mary.” She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll have eggs and toast soldiers - you want some?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to sound less bitter than he feels as he watches her head to the kitchen.

“So, Brett…” He says, following her to the kitchen and grabbing the bread and putting it in the toaster.

“Charles Brett.” you clarified.

Jason had to physically restrain himself from laughing. “Charles Brett? Those are both first names. You’ve replaced me with a man with a first name for a last name.”

“I haven’t REPLACED you, you LEFT!” She says, indignant furry in her eyes as she whips around to face him, stove at her back. Jason felt his blood boil. Yes, he’d left, but he hadn’t wanted to!

“And then you wouldn’t let me come BACK!” he counters, trying to keep his voice level, but not managing it. 

“BECAUSE YOU WERE RIGHT TO LEAVE!” She yells, tears in her eyes. 

“you fighting?” Mary asks, opening her bedroom door, tugging at the tie of her Gotham academy uniform as if it had personally offended her.

  “No sweetie.” they say in unison, as they shoot her reassuring smiles.

It doesn’t work.

She regards you both suspiciously, and takes her toast and eggs “please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always cries when you leave so please don’t fight now.” “What?”

“Please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always gets sad when you leave so please don’t fight now.”

“What?” Jason asks, glancing from Mary to you. You were proud that you’d raised an honest, headstrong young lady who had no hesitation speaking her mind. You did sometimes, such as right now, wish she did it a little less often around Jason. Jason who was now looking at you with a face you hated for how little you could read. He used to be an open book to her. Mary pulls herself onto the chair at the kitchen bench and dips her toast into her egg. “We got two names.” she points out to Jason. “Todd’s a boy's name.”

You sigh, and sip your coffee. She’d heard all of it. How lovely. 

Your baby girl looks at you, her hair in an attempt of a ponytail, her uniform slightly overlarge still, being early in the school year, both making her look so, so tiny. “What did dad mean? That you wouldn’t let him come back?”

You feel like you're falling. Luckily, there’s no amount of hurt, upset, or angry that Jason could be that would mean he wouldn’t come to your aid. “See cherub… Daddy didn’t mean that.” He says, grabbing her shoulder gently.

“I did… Well, I’m sure someone at school might’ve said, or the news… Marriage is supposed to be a promise to love each other forever … and I broke that promise.” Jason takes a deep breath.

 “What I did hurt your mum. She hasn’t forgiven me. Maybe she won’t ever. She doesn’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I said what I said because I was upset, but… It’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

You offer him an awkward, tight smile. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you baby girl. Just that … being married wasn’t the best option for us anymore.”

“...” Mary leans into her Dads side, her face solemn and thoughtful. You have to avert your gaze from the pair, lest you start crying - or worse - forgive him. 

“Do you still love mum?” she asks quietly, and Jason opens his mouth, hesitating for a second - which saves him from needing to answer the question. Only to make the situation a million times worse for you. Jason looks to the door. “Brett?” he asks, addressing you, but his gaze not leaving the door, with a look in his eyes that reminds you of darker days. “Brett.” You confirm, taking a deep breath as you move towards the door. “You packed M?”

“Yeah Mum,” she says, grabbing her backpack and shrugging it on, wrapping her arms around Jason’s waist in a goodbye hug. 

“See ya soon Dad?”

“...Yeah, baby. Really soon. Promise.” He says, ruffling her hair. 

You open the door, hoping to do this quickly, before things get even more uncomfortable. Charles Brett is a shorter man, with brown hair, brown eyes, forever slightly unkempt and a had perpetually tired look in his eyes from being a single father of three. But he has a kind smile, and you like him. He’s … a good man. He’s not Jason, but then again no one is. 

“Charles, Hi.” You say, leaning against the door to bar entrance. Normally you’d invite him in, have coffee or let the kids watch a episode of bluey while you chatted if the morning was running on schedule. 

He says your name, but catches your discomfort before he says anything more, and his gaze moves past you, looking for its source - and he finds it.

“Oh, Hello - Jason, yes? The ex husband?” He asks, pretending not to know who he was, as if he hadn’t seen the many magazines and heard the gossip surrounding his incredibly public, if staged, infidelity. As if Jason, in his need to convince Roman you meant nothing, hadn’t publicly called you a bitch. Jason doesn’t seem to remember that at this moment, and you watch as he puffs up his chest in rage. 

“Yeah. You have an issue with that?” he asks, moving to stand behind you.

“And if I do—-”

“Not. In. Front. Of. The. Kids.” You interject, before it can go too far. 

“Have a good day at school sweetie.” You say, kissing the crown of Mary’s head, giving Charles an apologetic smile, and all but slamming the door and turning to Jason. 

“He’s a good man.” You growl. Because he is. And because Mary needs a positive male influence, and Jason hasn’t been able to be that. And because you are a little worried that Jason is going to use his alter ego to run him off. 

“He’s sniffing around where he doesn’t belong.” Jason counters, stepping forward. You step back, and feel the door knob press against your spine. 

“He belongs here if I want him here.” You reply, refusing to be intimidated. “Yeah, well he doesn’t get to be my kids fucking dad! I’m her dad!” You cut your own angry response short “what? We’ve been on two dates. No one is becoming a dad to our daughter?!” “That’s not what she said” Jason says, folding his arms. “Mary got ‘married’ twice last week at recess and last I checked had two boyfriends and a girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. “She is not the leading expert in how adult relationships work.” Jason takes a deep breath. “So it’s not… serious?” You shrug. “It’s not … Look. We’re adults. We both have kids. We don’t have a lot of time for casual flings, and the kids get along so need to be protected. We are taking it seriously, but it’s early days.” He nods slightly, “I’m having bab’s look into him.” You close your eyes and exhale. “Jay…” “I won’t do anything unless I find something substantial.” he reluctantly promises. “But I don’t take chances when it comes to you.” You feel his presence loom closer despite your eyes being closed. You open them to see your ex husband’s hand lingering in the air a few centimetres from your shoulder, his eyes sad and longing as he stands before you. “Is he good to you?” He asks, the anger gone from his voice. “Can you… see a future with him?” “Why does it matter to you?” You ask. It’s mostly rhetorical. You know why, and really what you mean to ask without saying it in as many words… is if Jason feels he has any right to intervene if his search finds anything more serious than a questionable browser history.

“Why does it matter to you?” The words feel wrong against his very ears. His tenuous grasp on the cool facade he’d put up, which had almost begun to take a true effect, with those six words is utterly shattered. He feels his heart pounding, too fast, too hard, too angry. The pit changed him, in many ways. The anger had always been there. The pit had made it worse. He’d never once take it out on you. He’d sooner die. But it exists in him, clawing like a beast against the inside of his ribs. Why does it matter? Why does it FUCKING MATTER? It screams, it throws itself against his skin, it burns his eyes and boils in his blood. How can you not understand how deeply he loves you? How can you not understand that he’d destroy anything that wished you or Mary harm and delight in it? That if you hadn’t been in his life back then, he’d surely be on a very different path? How do you not understand? He turns away, tugging a hand through his hair, he cannot look at her in this moment, cannot meet those beautiful eyes, can’t bear to see the face he adores above all others contorted by anger. “It matters to me because I still fucking love you.” He says through gritted teeth, through the shame, the rage, and the hurt. “And because I know you know that,” He continues, stepping further back to pace the apartment - the home - that he had once shared with you. He hears her move across the hardwood towards him. Feels a hand on his arm. “Jason…” She says quietly, as if to soothe a wounded beast - and he wishes it didn’t work as well as it did. He wishes he didn’t feel like a frightened, pained, hissing beast. He pushes her away. Not aggressively - but a firm, nonverbal denial. “Roman fucked with our kid. I don’t regret what we did as a result. But love, he’s been in the ground for years. I know that it could happen again… But I don’t want to keep missing my kids' childhood because of that fear. If her safety costs us… then so be it. But I don’t accept that it will. I refuse. The only fucking reason I kept these-”

 He holds up the rings on the cord around his neck “Is to put yours back on your fucking finger one day.” He sits at the bench, his hands in his pockets so you can’t see his knuckles go white. So you can’t see his pain, or how bad what he is about to do scares him. “I don’t ever want to fight you. You know that, right?” He looks at you, and he hopes that whoever or whatever is out there he doesn’t sound as sad as he feels. He looks at her, his friend, his daughter's mother, his ex wife who he’d never truly seen as an ex anything, and he sees a woman who’s hurting as he is, but while he sees the solution to their pain as recovery of what was, she sees the solution as acceptance. She cannot help him. He cannot help her. But, together, perhaps, they can help their daughter. “I want you to know this isn’t just because of Brett. Though hearing Mary talk about a new dad did light a fire under my ass. I want custody. Shared, I mean.” He puts his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen counter. “I’ll be asking for 50/50. Please.” He looks at her through his fingers. “We make a good team. Don’t make this be ugly.” She sighs, sad and tired and hurting. “I think we’re both a little too charged to talk about that right now. Can we have coffee in a few days?” He nods. “Yeah. Yeah that works for me. I uh… I’ll call Alfred to send a car round for me… and you can text me the details?”

A week later, you find yourself sitting in the back of a coffee shop, waiting for Jason to return with your drinks. You try not to dwell on the fact that despite not having asked, you knew he didn’t need to to know your order even after all this time.  You shuffle the papers of notes you’d had your lawyer look over. True, you trusted him. You thought he’d be a good father. You’d still stayed divorced for a reason. “I have concerns.” You say ternsly as he takes the seat across from you. He’s cleaned up. You can’t focus on that. You have a little girl who needs to come first right now - and you take a breath to remind yourself that she’s just as important to Jason. “Figures.” He says, but his tone is lighthearted. “Part of me just hates the idea of seeing her less.” You admit. He just nods, without judgement, without making the point that he knows what that’s like, simply letting you speak for the moment. “And it’s not because I like having her more than you, but because… I cried when she went on her first sleepover and she’s my baby.” You continue, picking at the napkin dispenser absentmindedly. “But beyond that there are logistical concerns as well. I know your … various residences…” safehouses. 

“Are safe. But moving as often as you do…” At least twice a week as a safety precaution.

“isn’t ideal for obvious reasons. Not to mention… She’s smart. She’s smart and she’s nosey.” Jason sips his coffee “her father’s daughter” “Nosey maybe. Smart? Debatable.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I see your point though. We don’t want her to find out about the families… extracurricular activities.” You sip your drink. Sure enough, he’d remembered your order. Damn him and his perfect memory and his perfect face. “I’ve put some thought into it.” He reassures, and you nearly snort. Some thought? Knowing Jason, knowing his family? Several hours of thought had gone into any decision they deemed remotely important. You’d attended meetings, essentially war councils, while you were still married about the most minor aspects of their cover. “With my … schedule, 50/50 won’t be possible without her knowing everything, and she isn’t ready yet. But I want weekends, which I… we? Would spend at the manor. For stability.” “We?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Jason gives you the same grin that had made you fall in love with him. Your stomach turns to a lepidopterarium. Damn him. “Well, last I checked Bruce said you were welcome at the manor whenever you wished… and if she was coming with you, it wouldn’t need to be a legal arrangement. Less of a paper trail is safer for Mary.” Jason says it matter of fact. Detached. Like he’s explaining a mission, not talking about his life, or his child’s. You know better than to fall for it. He runs a hand through his hair and winks at you. “Though if there needs to be a paper trail I’d prefer it be one leading to us again. I said some shit I shouldn’t have the other day. I apologise for that. You can keep seeing that Charles idiot - I was a prick about him, and his background check came back clean. But… I meant it. I fully intend to fight to get you back.” He stands to leave before you can process or argue. “So… See you Saturday morning?” he says not at all a genuine question, kissing your forehead and heading to the door, much like he might disappear after a one liner as Red Hood. You suspect it’s a strategy that works on cops or criminals - but is less impressive to his ex wife. All you can think to call after him is “SAYING THAT AND WALKING OFF ISN’T AS SLICK AS YOU THINK”

taglist @jasontoddproblems

@fic-over-cannon

@stormz369

[kikimurphys]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 17)

Pairing: Cillian x Y/N

You choked on your water when you heard her name. "Fuck," you thought, panic seeping in. You were about to meet Cillian's sister—right now. Anxiety washed over you as your mind raced. What if she thought you were just a gold digger after her brother's money? Meeting Cillian's family had always been one of your biggest worries.

Orla stood at the door, waiting for Cillian to greet her, but he seemed to freeze in place.

"What's wrong, Cill?" she asked, noticing his odd reaction.

"Nothing, sorry. Hi, Orla. How are ya?" He quickly recovered, giving her a kiss on the cheek and closing the door behind her.

She carried a few boxes and bags as she made her way to the kitchen. "I'm just passing by to drop this off," she said, placing them on the counter nearest to the kitchen door. "And I bought this set of curtains for Mum and Da, but I don't know if they—" She suddenly noticed you sitting at the kitchen counter and paused, recognition dawning on her face. "Oh, hi," she greeted you with a warm smile as she walked over.

"Orla, this is Y/N. She’s on bed rest, so she's staying with me," Cillian explained, his tone firm, making it clear that you were important to him.

"Why? Are you okay?" Orla asked, concern lacing her voice as she leaned on the table. Her sweet demeanor and well-mannered approach immediately put you at ease. You could tell she was genuinely kind, much like Cillian.

"Yeah, I was hospitalized last week," you began, placing a hand on your belly. "I had some bleeding, but we're okay now. I just have to move as little as possible."

Orla’s eyes softened as she looked at you. "Oh, I’m so sorry. Glad you're well now. Bed rest’s the worst, especially when you get that insane need to nest in the third trimester. Those urges are no joke," she said, raising her hands for emphasis, making you laugh at her playful tone.

There was a brief, awkward silence as the three of you stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to say next. 

“Well," Orla finally broke the silence, patting the boxes she had dropped off. "I was just passing by to leave these. Don’t forget to take them to Cork,” she said, gesturing to the boxes, before handing Cillian the curtains. “And here, what do you think of these? Do you think Mum and Da will like them?” she asked, her expression a little more serious now.

"They're okay, I suppose," Cillian replied with a shrug, clearly not too fussed about curtain shopping. Orla rolled her eyes at his lackluster response, amused by her brother’s indifference.

"Alright, I’m headed off," Orla said, reaching for her coat.

"We were just about to have dinner, if you want to join," Cillian offered, sensing that this could be a good opportunity for you to spend more time with her. "I'm making chicken curry."

"You know what, Cill?" Orla smiled as she settled beside you, pouring herself a glass of wine. "I could go for some of that chicken you make."

As she took a sip of her drink, she turned to you with a curious smile. “So, how far along are you?”

“Almost 22 weeks,” you replied, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“Ah, halfway already! Do you know what you’re having?” she asked, excitement lighting up her face.

“A girl,” Cillian chimed in from the stove, turning to you both with a proud smile.

“Oh, they’re the best! I had my Nina last year, and it’s so different than having boys,” Orla said warmly.

“How’s baby Nina?” Cillian asked, his eyes softening at the mention of his niece, who was nearly 10 months old.

“She’s exhausting,” Orla sighed dramatically, making both you and Cillian laugh. “She just learned how to get off the bed, and now I can’t close my eyes for a second without her disappearing.”

The evening flowed pleasantly after that. Orla shared stories and showed you pictures of her baby, and you got a glimpse of just how close she and Cillian were. His gentle care for his sister warmed your heart, and the easy dynamic between them made you feel more at ease.

After dinner, fatigue began to weigh on you, and Cillian noticed immediately. He offered to prepare the guest room for you, knowing that it hadn’t been decorated or lived in yet. You thanked him as he left to make the bed, his attentiveness leaving you feeling cared for.

Once Cillian was out of earshot, Orla leaned in closer with a playful, curious smile. “So, how’s my brother been treating you?” she whispered, her tone filled with interest.

You smiled softly. “He’s been very attentive and has helped me so much. He’s a good guy,” you said, genuinely grateful for Cillian’s care.

Orla raised an eyebrow slightly. “And are you two not together then?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the separate room where you'd be sleeping. “I don’t want to be invasive, but Cillian mentioned the situation…”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured her, appreciating her honesty. “To be honest, I don’t really know,” you added with a small laugh. “We’re taking it slow... just taking our time.”

Orla nodded, understanding. “That makes sense,” she said gently.

“I’m just staying here so he can take care of me if anything happens until my sister arrives. I don’t want to take up too much of his time,” you explained, feeling the need to be transparent.

Orla gave you a knowing look and smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that. Cillian wouldn’t offer if he didn’t want to be there for you. He’s always been a bit of a caretaker, especially for those he cares about.”

Orla’s smile softened as she leaned back slightly, swirling the wine in her glass. “You know,” she began thoughtfully, “even if you two don’t end up together, that baby girl of yours... she’s still part of this family.” Her eyes flickered warmly toward your belly. “And we’ll love her no matter what.”

You blinked, a wave of emotion rushing through you at her words. It was the first time someone from Cillian’s family had said anything about the baby, and hearing that acceptance brought a sense of relief. 

“She’s going to be surrounded by love,” Orla continued, her tone filled with sincerity. “You, Cillian, and the rest of us. Family isn’t always about how things start, but about how you come together in the end. And believe me, we’re here for both of you, no matter what happens between you and my brother.”

Her reassurance eased a knot in your chest that you didn’t realize had been building. “Thank you,” you said quietly, feeling a surge of gratitude. “I’ve been so worried about what people would think... that maybe they’d see me as some sort of... I don’t know.”

Orla waved a hand dismissively. “People will always have something to say. But those who matter—the people in this family—we’ll always have your back. And that little girl... she’s going to have an army of people loving her.”

Hearing that made you feel more welcome than you had expected. “I really appreciate that,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “It means a lot.”

Orla smiled again, this time with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Plus, you’re stuck with me now—an honorary sister. We’ll spoil her rotten, you just wait.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at her words. All you wanted in the world was for your baby to be happy and grow up in a loving environment.

Just then, you heard Cillian’s footsteps coming down the hall. “What were you two talking about?” he asked, his brow raised slightly as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing much, just talking behind your back,” Orla teased, shooting her brother a playful grin. Cillian rolled his eyes, used to her antics.

“The bedroom’s all ready for you,” he told you softly. You nodded, feeling your eyelids growing heavier as the night wore on. "Thanks, Cill."

Orla stood up, gathering her things. “Well, I better head off. Gotta tuck the kids in.” She smiled, giving you a quick hug. “Don’t forget to rest, okay?”

“Of course,” you smiled back, sipping the last of your tea.

Orla turned to Cillian, reminding him once again about the package for Cork. “Don’t forget! You’re as forgetful as ever,” she teased.

“What’s that for?” you asked, glancing at the large box she’d mentioned earlier.

“Cutlery and plates for our parents’ anniversary in October,” she replied. “Their 50th. We’re planning it way ahead.”

“You should bring Y/N,” Orla repeated, looking between you and Cillian. “It’ll be the perfect chance for her to meet everyone at once.”

Cillian’s eyes widened, and he shot you a quick, slightly panicked glance. You could feel anxiety bubbling up in your chest, a knot tightening in your stomach. "Oh no, don't worry about me. I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you blurted out, your voice a bit shaky. Your palms were suddenly sweaty. What would his family even think? You were already pregnant and hadn't met them. What if they judged you? You weren't even sure where you stood with Cillian—how would you explain this to them?

Orla quickly picked up on the tension, her smile softening as she placed a reassuring hand on your arm. “Honestly, don’t stress about it,” she said warmly, sensing your worry. “There’s plenty of time to decide, no pressure. Just something to keep in mind.” She gave you a comforting smile before turning to Cillian, pulling him into a hug as she said her goodbyes.

Cillian moved to the sink to wash up as you quietly made your way to bed. While he scrubbed the dishes, your mind raced. *Would he really want you to meet his family?* You still felt insecure, unsure of your place in his life. Despite all his efforts to show he cared, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong, especially with the baby on the way. He already had a family, a whole life. Sometimes, you felt like an outsider. Or worse, like you were intruding on something that wasn’t meant to be yours.

Meanwhile, Cillian’s thoughts were completely different. As he washed up, the idea of you meeting his family filled him with joy. He could picture you with your baby, surrounded by nephews and cousins, fitting right into the warm, lively chaos that he loved so much. You’d bring a new light into his world, one that had dimmed over the years. You’d made him feel alive again. But he didn’t want to push you. He’d let the idea sit for now, give you time to decide. 

Later, lying in bed, you rubbed belly butter over your growing bump, your mind drifting. The realization that your body would never be the same hit you hard. You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were terrified. The stretch marks, the weight gain—it all scared you more than you let on.

Cillian, meanwhile, was fussing over the curtains, trying to make the room feel cozier. The space had been bare when you first arrived, just a bed and a mattress. He’d worked tirelessly to make sure you were comfortable, and now he was determined to block out the morning sun.

“Cill, it’s okay,” you laughed softly, watching him work. “I can do that tomorrow. You’ve got work in the morning.”

He shook his head stubbornly, finishing up with the curtains. “No, I don’t want you waking up with the sun in your face at 7 a.m.,” he replied, focused on getting it right.

You grinned, amused by his overprotectiveness. It was a little over the top, but sweet. You felt lucky that he was going to be the father of your child. Once he finished, he stood back, hands on his hips, looking at you with a smitten expression. Seeing you lying there, belly growing with his child, no makeup, just real and vulnerable—it melted his heart.

“All done,” he sighed, dusting off his hands.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer now. “Do you have to leave early for work?”

“Yeah, but I should be back by lunchtime,” he replied.

“Well, I’ll let you sleep then,” he said, turning to leave, but something made you stop him.

“Cill?” you called softly. He turned back to you, walking closer.

“Yeah?” he asked gently.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching for his hand, your voice filled with sincerity. “For letting me stay here, for being so good to me. And Orla, too. I was really scared to meet her, but she was so nice. I’m really grateful.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that,” he murmured. “Goodnight.”

Your heart fluttered at the softness of his touch, and almost as if in response, the baby kicked. She always seemed to know when you were nervous around him. “Goodnight,” you whispered, rolling over and closing your eyes. The sound of Cillian moving around the house was oddly soothing, and before long, you drifted into sleep.

Cillian went to his room and changed into his pajamas, but after tossing and turning for almost an hour, he gave up on trying to sleep. He padded softly into the living room, careful not to wake you. Opening your door just a crack, he peeked in. You were fast asleep, soft snores escaping your lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

He closed the door gently, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, and settled on the couch. Turning the TV on with the volume barely audible, he let the low hum of some sitcom wash over him, hoping it would help him fall asleep.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog

[mentha-vacciniumrainbow]

Zestmilla tickle fights with the girls?

Nice idea, can do! (Hope you enjoy, is a silly little thing 💜)

《Clara, no 》 warned Carmilla, but it was all useless, as her daughter got ready to pounce on her

《Clara yes! 》 The kid screamed, jumping from the top of the wardrobe and onto her mother, her little hands busy tickling her 《I got you! Mum is my prisoner now! 》

《Stop it! I'm serious! 》 scolded Carmilla between laughters, carefull to move herself so that both her and her daughter would hit a soft surface when they would inevitably fall 《No TV the whole weekend! No spicy chips! No... No skateboarding! 》

《Worth it! 》 giggled the child, well aware that none of those threats would be followed by action. Her mum liked to act as she didn't enjoy their surprise attacks, but truth was, she could always see them coming from a mile away and never did anything to stop them from happening

《Stop! 》 She ordered again, as they fell on the bed and her dearest friend entered the room, alerted by the noise but not particularly panicked

《Zestial, a little help, please! 》 She pleaded, but Zestial, her oldest friend, the almost father of her daughters, her lighthouse in the storm, simply watched her with a knowing smirk, as he made his way towards them

《Thou doth not seem to particularly mind, mine dear 》 he noted, simply standing as her hyperactive child had the time of her life tickling her and undoing her neat updo.

So, apparently that was how he wanted to play, this time

《Traitor 》

《At least thou art getting cuddles 》 he comforted, and Clara stopped her assault to look at him dead in the eyes, a fanged smile brightening her round little face even more

《Don't worry jefe*, we won't make you feel left out》

《We? 》 asked Zestial, starting to look around the room, but it was already too late

《SURPRISE ATTACK 》

《Odette! 》

The child threw herself from the chandelier, successfully managing to knock Zestial to the ground and climb on him to deliver her own ticklish assault

《I'm speed, I'm stealth, I'm grace, I'M THE INVISIBLE TICKLER! 》

《I see thee perfectly, little lambkin 》 he laughed, still a bit out of breath, as he tried to rise, but his daughter was of a different opinion, and climbed on his chest as she pulled a long feather out of her sleeve

《Not for long! Feather attack! 》

《No! Not the feather, my only weakness 》 he played along 《show some mercy, I beg thee! 》

《No! Clara, I need help, dad is too tall to tickle alone! 》

《Reinforces are coming! 》

Assured the other, climbing off of her mother and joining her twin in her endeavour.

As his two beloved little menaces went wild on him and his poor clothes, Zestial noticed his dearest swiftly recomposing herself and preparing to slither out of the room

《Carmilla, mine dear... 》

He tried in his meekest voice, but this time it was her turn to smirk as she watched from above

《Na-ah. You were ready to leave me to my destiny, I'm leaving you to yours. Good luck, dear friend! 》

With a satisfied smile, she made her escape and closed the door behind her.

"Oh well, I deserved it." He thought "Yet, I shall nonetheless have my own ticklish revenge on mine loveliest lady... after our little ones are settled for the night, without a doubt."

*"Jefe" is the Spanish word for "boss", but is also affectionately/respectfully used for one's parents. I have a whole headcanon around it -used in my main fanfiction "You bring back my Springtime"-, but long story short, it's Clara's way of indirectly recognising Zestial as her dad, where Odette is more explicit.

[its-all-papaya]

y'all voted for... four, five or eight... so I just chose my favorite.

presenting: dad lando snippet‼️

“mega race, mate! congrats!” he types out. It feels cheesy, makes him blush. He deletes the exclamation points. Thinks about what else to add, what feels thanks for calling me an uber so I didn’t pass out in a gutter and not I have not gone 24 consecutive hours without thinking about your text since you sent it. “mega race, mate, congratulations,” looks better. After another second, he tags on “hope you enjoy your break” and it feels good. Feels normal. His finger hovers over the x key and it would be easy, he thinks. Oscar did it first. He chews on the skin next to his thumb until it stings, then hits send without it. He toggles his phone into do-not-disturb for the final 15 or so minutes of Emma’s park time and leaves on silent while they walk back. Then he puts it to charge while he boils water for spaghetti and heats a half-dozen frozen meatballs to temp on the other burner. Emma builds Lego while he cooks, eats dinner without a fuss, and hardly even complains about imaginary soap in her eyes when Lando gets her in the bath after. It’s a good night, but most of them are. He’s gotten really, really lucky with her, regardless of how often his mum and Max try to convince him it’s anything Lando’s done to make her so agreeable so often. She’s just a pretty easy kid. Once he’s read a chapter (and another, because she’d asked really nicely and they had an extra minute), he kisses her on the forehead and tucks Bunny under her arm, then flicks the overhead off and the nightlight on and tells her, as always, that he loves her more than anything in the world. When he’s alone in his own bedroom, there’s truly no excuse left. He pushes it anyway. Brushes his teeth, showers off the day, changes into his pajamas and puts on some show he doesn’t care about for background noise. Then there’s no excuse. His phone screen is full of notifications when he finally picks it up. Most of them are mundane – emails he’ll get to in the morning, that sort of thing. Max has sent him some shit about his sex life that Lando doesn’t want to read, a selfie with his trophy, and then a calendar invite for a tee time in two and a half weeks, followed by a single question mark. Lando taps out “yeah probly” and then all that’s left is the other chats. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but it comes out in a rush when he sees the little unread marker next to Oscar’s name. His heart does a mortifying flip flop in his chest and he taps in with embarrassing speed. It’s time-stamped an hour ago, anyway, it’s not like he’ll look desperate.

[bad268]

Actually obsessed with your Arvid stories omd!!!!!!! They're too cute

Could you do one about reader being a part of prema and in challenges and vids there is a lot of moments between them and fans catch onto that

+Heyyyy

The arvid stories are way too good omd ur writing>>

Anyways had a request for him if that's okay, arvid and the guys are in some prema promo vid (Dino and them) and they start teasing him about girls or smth and he's like "I don't think my gf would appreciate that" and them and the fans are shocked

What Are The Odds? (Arvid Lindblad X Prema! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (hope yall don't mind I combined this <3)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1276

Summary: What are the odds?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You and Arvid were like a package deal. You met in the Italian F4 championship and went through your entire F4 careers together. You two were the youngest F3 drivers, and now, you were in F2. This time, for the first time, you were teammates at Prema. 

That being said, fans of you two always searched for crumbs of interactions between you. It was pretty difficult because even though you were friends (publically), you were always on different teams, and you two preferred to hang out in the privacy of your shared apartment. Your lives are already so public that you wanted a sliver of it to be behind closed doors. No one could blame you, but the fans made it clear they wanted more. This also didn't stop your friends from making sly comments during videos.

Back in F3, Dino made it his mission to constantly tease Arvid mainly because he thought you two were cute. They were paired together for the Taylor Swift or Shakespeare challenge, and Dino really amped up the teasing.

“Do you think Taylor Swift would ever give you a chance?” Dino joked before they even started the challenge. 

“Uh, I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that,” Arvid dragged out before he thought about it for a second. “Actually, she probably wouldn’t care because she loves Taylor Swift.”

When that video went live, you immediately texted him that he better not get with Taylor Swift, and he responded, saying he was going with the bit. Honestly, the fans didn’t want to believe he had a girlfriend because they shipped you two so much. Little did they know. 

When you both were announced to take the places of Kimi and Ollie, the fans didn’t hide their excitement. They knew Prema was known for their challenges, and they were practically begging Angelina in the Instagram comments to pair you two up. Luckily, Angelina read most of the comments, and she already planned for you to be partnered going forward. 

The first video was a “How well do you know your teammate” challenge. Easy peasy for you two right?

“What is my family heritage?” All went downhill immediately. 

“You started off difficult for a reason!” You accused, pretending to throw your cards at Arvid.

“That was the first card!” He defended, using his own cards to shield his face. 

“Well, I know you’re British, duh,” You deadpanned to the camera, “You’re dad is Swedish I think, so Swedish. Is there another?”

“Yeah, technically one more,” Arvid smiled at you as he nodded along with you.

“I don’t know where your mum is from. I thought she was British.”

“She is, but her parents are from India.” 

“Damn, I could’ve guessed that,” You laughed as you looked at your first card. The plan was t alternate between the two of you. “What is my favorite warm-up?”

“Jumping rope,” Arvid said immediately, snapping toward you.

“No,” You responded just as quickly. “I hate jumping rope. You should know this.”

“Is it the tennis balls or good mornings then?” Arvid gave up.

“Neither,” You gasped, honestly horrified that he gave up so quickly. You held your cards out in front of you as you turned them much like you would with your wheel. “It's the wheels.”

“I should’ve known!” He shouted, smacking a hand against his forehead. “I’m sorry I don’t know you.”

“You should know me at least a little given the circumstances,” You jokingly lectured.

“When’s my birthday?” Arvid got back on track.

“You should've started with this!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up before pointing at him. “The eighth of August, 2007.”

“I shouldn’t doubt you when it comes to remembering dates,” Arvid chuckled quietly to himself.

“Now, what is my worst habit?” You eyed him suspiciously, trying to communicate with him to not say anything weird.

“Well, you take forever to wake up in the morning,” Arvid started with a laugh. “You’re always late.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all my fault! My bed is just so comfy!” You gushed leaning further into your chair, imagining it being your bed. “Yeah, I could go for a nap right now.”

“I think that’s the end of the video then,” Arvid laughed as he wrapped it up quickly, so you two could go home.

When the video dropped, you did not expect the influx of messages and comments. They were generally saying that Arvid should break up with his girlfriend or that you two should be together. One comment on the Instagram post said, “what are the odds they're already together” and you ran with it. You talked about it together and decided it was finally time to announce your relationship.

You screenshotted the comment and took a picture with Arvid. You two were leaning your foreheads together smirking, and you shared that picture with the screenshotted comment to your story. You laid down on Arvid’s lap as you gave everyone a minute to freak out before posting another picture of you laying with Arvid with the caption, “what are the odds?”

The next video was going to be interesting. In true Angelina fashion, she started planning the perfect challenge for you.

“Hello everybody! I’m Y/n, and that’s Arvid,” You introduced, gesturing for Arvid to continue the start of the video.

“And we’re playing the Mr and Mrs game,” Arvid explained all of the rules as you nodded along. When he wrapped up, you played rock paper scissors to see who would listen to music first. He won, so he put the headphones on while Angelina asked you the questions.

“What is Arvd’s favorite track?”

“Silverstone,” You answered immediately, “Man is more patriotic than an American.” You looked back at Arvid and gestured for him to come forward. He took the headphones off and wheeled his chair over to you again. “What’s your favorite circuit?”

“Silverstone,” Arvid said immediately, and he was going to go into a tangent, but you cut him off.

“What did I say? I knew it!” You exclaimed with a laugh as you poked his cheek, “You’re just too British.”

“Ok, I’m going back under now,” Arvid muttered, embarrassed at all of the attention being caught on camera. He put the headphones back on and wheeled back, nodding his head to the music playing.

You continued with a few different questions ranging from racing topics to favorite foods and dream holiday destinations. When you got the the end of the list of Arvid’s questions, you swapped.

“What was Y/n’s racing number in karting?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Arvid argued. “I didn’t even know her then!”

“She knew your heritage, so you should at least know their karting number.”

“1?” Arvid answered with a question as he looked back, beckoning you to come forward. “What was your karting number?”

“What did you say?” You teased. You never told him what it was, so you wanted to see what he said.

“1,” Arvid answered simply.

“What are the odds you didn’t know that?” You teased lightly, “So, it’s actually a trick question. I didn’t have a single racing number since I got handed down karts. Generally, my numbers were 17, 25, 99, and 33. In F4, I chose (#) as my racing number though.”

“How was I ever going to get that?” Arvid said in disbelief as he shook his head. “You’re done. We’re done. This has been the Mr and Mrs game.”

“And clearly this Mr doesn’t know his Mrs, but we’ll settle that later,” You cut in before Arvid could completely wrap the video up. “We’ll see you on the track or in the next video. Bye!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[rahabs]

I finally found a place that makes really, really tasty daal and biryani in this city for when I’m too tired or lazy to make it myself.  Only downside is they don’t deliver as they’re too far away.

[megumi-fm]

.

[rickybaby]

re your last reblog I just remembered lee mckenzie interviewing his parents after monaco and they were saying everything about that day was perfect except they just wished michelle was there too, like his parents really did well raising their kids and having a great relationship with them

He loves his sister and she loves him because she was still doing his goofy hair at 17!! He loves spending time in LA because his cousin lives there! He loves his day one homies and still makes sure he stays in touch with them! Loves his nephew and niece and will FaceTime them every two days! Buys them gifts wherever he goes in the world because he thinks of them! This man LOVES his people and he makes sure they know!!

[wychelm]

Out late-ish this evening — I am walking down a long empty side road that leads only to an empty car park and then the dark woods beyond. I hate this stretch when it's late because it's cut off from the town and not yet the trees and it takes forever to cross this no man's land. I always walk it as quickly as possible, but tonight I look down at the ground and see a note that says "I know what you did!"; simultaneously I realise that behind me a single car is crawling towards me very slowly. There is nobody else around.

[hella1975]

my mum: if you get married and the mother-in-law is a bitch about the wedding just know i'll wipe the floor with her. im the mother of the BRIDE and that's way more important than the mother of the husband!

me laughing awkwardly bc that was a very heteronormative thing to say and im always constantly worrying that my bisexuality is something my mum wants to just push to the side and pretend it doesnt exist:

my mum: *silent*

me: *silent*

my mum: UNLESS IT'S A GIRL-

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

i spent all morning looking for the cheapest ways to get to venice next monday and i feel like i've cracked the code or something i think i got it

[girlitfeelsgood]

"I feel safe with you"

[kavehater]

I’ll never understand younger siblings whining about their older siblings moving away like I bet yall were nasty and annoying too like wow all those years and you claim to adore the older sibling and post oh woe is me the older sibling abandoned me … girl … the older sibling didn’t have a parental certificate or anything.

[astralpenguin]

maybe my mother doesn’t realise it but when i message her for the first time in a few days to share something i’m excited about, her immediately suggesting i use it as an opportunity to look for a new job makes me not want to share things like this with her anymore